


Bonus: Star of Wonder, Star of Northern Lights

by 50NoriStars



Series: Star Hero Post [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, M/M, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21937843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50NoriStars/pseuds/50NoriStars
Summary: Pasta art, animal shaped pancakes, camping themed parties, and a search for a prize Christmas Cracker entertain hospitalized children and nations alike in this Christmas tale.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia), Canada/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia)
Series: Star Hero Post [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1470365
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Christmas Eve. Stars and Bars, Alaska.

In the wee hours of Christmas Eve morning, in a back hallway of Stars and Bars General Hospital, a creature was stirring, speedily and artistically. Yet he wasn't the only one. 

"Wunderbar, Feli! Your pasta Northern Lights replication is fantastisch." Ludwig, eschewing sleep between doctor rounds to hang lights from the hall ceiling around Feli's pasta art, yawn praised. "The children still recovering from meningitis will love it." He nodded, impressed by the ceiling art above and pillow campsites and S’mores stations below. "Now if only someone will agree to play Santa." 

Feli stopped pasta sculpting to cock his auburn head with the single curl sticking out. "Vay? But you are Santa. Santa Luddy. The town voted. Just as they voted Mrs. Claus to be played by…"

"Nein! Don't say it. Don't say it, Dummkopf!"

"...Senor Bonnefoy!" Feli sang, just as Ludwig's worst patient ever, Francis Bonnefoy, arrived in a flouncy red skirt and fur trimmed blue cloak.

"Uh hon hon hon hon, Santa Luddy!" Francis, sans beard, held out the Santa suit the town event coordinator dared him to deliver. 

"Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein!" Ludwig couldn't close his revolted eyes fast enough, only to reopen them with a doctor's laserlike focus. "Scheisse, Francis. Your hands! Cellulitis presenting already, despite the preventative antibiotics I prescribed. And just what were you thinking modeling in fresh water with your compromised immunity, Dummkopf"

"Oh hon hon hon. Being your patient again est mon best Noël present. Un miracle de Noël, oui?"

"Nein! It's a Christmas nightmare worse than this...this...hair katastrophe." He gestured to Francis' man bun decorated with sprigs of holly. 

"No one can resist this hair." Francis patted it proudly. "Mais maintenant, you must hurry!" He held out the suit. "Our press interview awaits." 

"Si! Si! Let me style you!" Feli sang, and rushed Ludwig to the doctor's on call room where his hospital orderly brother Romano was cooking pasta for Feli's ceiling art. 

"Suck my jingle balls, Christmas cookie eater." Romano told Ludwig.

Ludwig yawn sighed as he removed his doctor coat and gray trousers. "Troublesome as always, Romano. But how is that an insult when as Santa I'm required to eat cookies?" 

Romano thought for a second, then whipped out a white Santa mustache and beard from behind his back which he held to his own face. "I brought weapon, jerk bastard. Santa whiskers! Ah ha, ha, ha. Hoo hoo! You look so very stupid with your big bushy Santa whiskers."

Ludwig yawn sighed a second time. "Again, Romano, as I will be playing Santa, how is this an insult? Also, you look to be the one with Santa whiskers." 

"Eyyyy?" Romano balked, then caught his own bewhiskered reflection in Ludwig's locker mirror. "No, no, don't look at me I'm so ugly!" 

He ran off to make Ludwig swear. "Scheisse. Who will make pasta now?"

Feli clapped his hands. "No one, because my sculpture is finished so no more pasta is needed!" He turned off the pasta maker. "But what is needed is sleep for Santa Luddy!" He whisked the Santa outfit from Ludwig's hands and throw it in the locker. "Come on. Come on." He pulled Ludwig dressed in nothing but his undershirt and boxer briefs to the nap couch. "No Santa yet, you must sleep."

"But Bonnefoy...press interview…" Ludwig protested weakly as Feli settled him onto the couch and covered him with a blanket. 

"Senor Bonnefoy gives molte, molte interviews by himself. Let him give this one by himself also, while Santa Luddy gives...cuddles!" He flopped onto the very edge of the couch. 

"Feli you'll fall. Dummkopf." Ludwig groggily prevented Feli from falling by cuddling him.

"Si, we both will fall. Asleep." Feli giggled as he turned off the room light, then waited for Ludwig to start snoring softly before he sent Alfred a bright green GO emoji text.


	2. Chapter 2

Outside, in the parking space closest to the hallway's back entrance, Alfred and Arthur were making out in Alfred's truck.

"Mmm. Chef Alfred. More apple pie kisses please. And get this bloody puffer vest off you." Arthur sought out Alfred's lips while attempting to feel under his outerwear. 

"No no." Alfred snapped the vest shut and held Arthur off. "My apple pie kisses will become apple pie yule log in a minute."

"Mmm. Even better. And Chef Arthur can make stiff tea to go with." Arthur made to straddle him but again Alfred held off. 

"No, Arthur. We’ll get arrested having sex at a Children’s hospital, then we won’t be able to lay out your cracker whatsit thingies for the kiddies"

Arthur stopped his uncoordinated attempts at fondling to furrow his brows. "Cracker whatsit thingies, prat? I'll have you know my family's racing unicorn Christmas Crackers are world famous." 

"Yeah, yeah. Wind up unicorns wrapped in foil for Christmas. Snooze."

"Wot! There's a banger, racetrack and crown in each cracker as well."

"SNOOZE!"

"Snooze is it? Snooze is it?"

"Yup. Snoo-oo-ooooze!" Alfred yawned loudly, then brightened when Feli's GO text finally arrived. “Cool! Luddy’s finally asleep. Let’s hit it.” He jumped out of the truck while Arthur shakily exited the passenger side. 

“Lord love you Americans. Why not just design lifts for your skyscraper high trucks.” Arthur groused, and by the time his Crockett & Jones boots reached pavement Alfred had already finished attaching a dimmer to Luddy’s Christmas lights to prevent Arthur from seizuring. Then when he collected only Christmas crackers from the trunk Arthur protested. “My gait trainer.”

“You won’t need it for pillow forts shaped like campsites. Fall on pillows all you like. I’m counting on it.” Alfred winked, then made a great show of opening the door for Arthur’s initial walk through. 

“Gore, blimey. Bloody brilliant, this.” Arthur gawked at Feli’s dimly lit masterpiece, then slowly and shakily, taking extra care not to disturb anything, began laying out crackers on campsite tables as Alfred ran around and jumped pillow hurdles. 

“Yeah! Yeah!” He crashed at some point, then bounced on and rolled on pillows. “Come on, Arthur. Fall already!” 

“I most certainly will not, tosser!” 

Alfred brightened. “Tosser, huh?” He tossed a pillow.

“Leave things as you find them, git. Every school child knows this.” 

Alfred tossed another pillow. Hard. At Arthur. 

“Oof.” Arthur lost what little balance he had at the impact, fell on pillows, and sent crackers flying everywhere. “My crackers!” Arthur cried.

“Oof.” Alfred fell on Arthur’s pillows after bounding over, then laughed at his concern. “Arthur, it’s Alaskan kids you’re giving crackers to. You don’t think they’ll pop those crackers, think they’re lame, then use their Christmas Eve ‘Lil’ Splodies to blow up unicorn toy asses!” 

“No I don’t think, arsemonger!” Arthur shakily hit him with a pillow. 

“Sorry, was that a hit? Or were you softly arranging that pillow for a Pier One display?” 

At long last, Arthur's anger adrenaline surged, and Arthur was able to engage in a true pillow fight, which surprisingly he won by blinding Alfred with his ugly Christmas sweater then smothering him with a hamburger shaped pillow. “Say it, say it!” He commanded. 

“Ow, ow, OW! Chip Butties are better than hamburgers. Chip Butties are better than hamburgers.” Chanted Alfred’s muffled voice to make Arthur release him, then both collapsed against the pillows they’d fought with, and gazed up at Feli’s pasta Northern Lights. 

“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Arthur asked, then noticed something strange. “But look, that star shaped bulb over there is still bright while the rest are dim.” 

“Yuh.” Alfred followed his gaze. “That bulb just wouldn’t dim no matter how much I dimmed the others.” 

Arthur sighed. “Then it’s our own personal Christmas star, as it were.”

“Huh?” Alfred sat up. “No way, dude! It’s our own North Star.” 

Now Arthur sat up. “Bloody hell, Alfred! A North Star over a Christmas Star, on bloody Christmas Eve?” 

“Fuck yeah, Arthur! Because the North Star led you to me.” Alfred blurted out happily. So happily in fact, Arthur couldn’t help smiling as well. 

“Right then, it’s the bloody North Star that led me to you. Happy now?” 

Alfred rolled over to gaze lovingly at Arthur. “Are you?” He asked sincerely. 

“Ethereally.” Arthur didn’t hesitate to reply, then didn’t hesitate to pop a Christmas cracker against Alfred’s deserving ass.


	3. Chapter 3

Later that morning…

Poor Matthew! After weeks of cooking and serving breakfast at the hospital during the meningitis outbreak he managed to contract it himself, right when everyone else was recovering. Still, the children weren’t about to forget their favorite squiggle haired, pancake flipper and balancer, (twelve on each spatula,) and animal shapes syrup pourer just because it was Christmas. 

“Oh hon hon hon, Frère Marceau! I have more drawings and cards pour vous.” Francis, still dressed as Mrs. Claus, swept into his hospital room for a third delivery. 

Matthew sat up weakly and said. “That’s not my name, and you’re probably not my brother, but thanks.” He accepted the offerings and smiled at each one as he sorted through them. Then he came across one of Arthur’s Christmas crackers and cocked his head in confusion. 

“Oh, oui oui, Frère Marceau. Ce cracker is from une petite fille who wished to gift it to you, because she said ce squiggly foil is like votre squiggly hair.” 

“Oh. O-kay?” Matthew shrugged and made to set it aside, but Francis unexpectedly flopped on the bed. 

“Oh Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, I am, as you say, so tired.” Francis kicked off his woman’s fur trimmed boots and lay back. 

Matthew blinked at Francis’ odd antics, then made to set the cracker aside a second time.

“Frère Marceau!” Francis sat up suddenly. 

“What? What?” Matthew asked, the cracker still in his hand. 

“Do you know what ce cracker is?” 

Matthew shook his head.

“Ce cracker est un world famous, Kirkland family, Cracker de Noël. And a few sont très valuable. Now do you wish to open this?

Matthew looked at it more closely, blinked at Francis some more, then shook his head. “Nah. I’ll keep the foil intact, ‘cause the little girl liked my hair squiggle.” 

At that Francis patted his man bun. “Oh Marceau, Marceau. What does this matter? All jeunes filles love my hair. No one can resist my hair. Mais do I care?” Matthew opened his mouth to accuse Francis of ONLY caring about his hair and looks, but the man continued. “Ces crackers are scavenger hunted throughout London each Noël, Marceau. And each Noël the city is in une frenzy, searching for rare UK symbol unicorns inside des crackers. Only four exist, you see. Un lion, une unicorn, un red dragon, and un centaur. And all four are raced after le new year for un valuable prize. Un TRÈS valuable prize.” 

Matthew was too sick to be interested. Francis getting his name wrong over and over only made things worse, because secretly he’d been crushing on Francis and suspecting they weren’t brothers for months. Time to give him the what for! He thought, then sputtered. “So? Get your own cracker, Fr...Fr...Frank. Oh, crap.” He crumpled and hid under the covers at the failed insult. “Just leave, Bonnefoy.” His embarrassed muffled voice begged.

“Oh hon hon hon hon hon, Matthew. You insult so adorablement! Mais feel better and open ce cracker soon, before la contest ends. Dormez bien, sleep well.” 

And with that Francis left, leaving Matthew to think miserably; ‘No way will I open the cracker, just to feel disappointment again...”


	4. Chapter 4

Christmas Eve Night. Santa and S'mores Time.

"Yeah! Yeah! Hell...er...heck yeah!" Alfred was editing his swearing while playing a mash up game of pillow fights and capture the flag against the hospital kids. His only teammate Gilbert, however, could swear in German all he wanted as they alternated between throwing pillows hard and gently tackling flag stealers.

"Dude! Teach me some German shi...er...words." He begged amidst all the action. 

Of course the kids playing up close overheard and demanded. "Teach us too! Teach us too!"

Gilbert looked across the room at his brother Santa Luddy, distracted by the child on his lap. "He he he." He cackled then addressed the kids. "Awesome me will teach you. First word. ZUM TEUFEL!" (Dammit.)

"Zum Teufel! Zum Teufel! Zum Teufel!" Alfred and the kids cheered as they bounced around. 

"Das is awesome! Next word: GEH ZUM TEUFEL." (Go to hell.) 

"Geh Zum Teufel! Geh Zum Teufel! Geh Zum Teufel!" 

"Das is awesome too! Now…"

"Bruder!" Ludwig across the room stopped him with a cut throat gesture, then muttered German swear words himself under his breath. Das is how it feels to be school teacher. He thought. Not only did he have to separate his brother and Alfred for the umpteenth time, Francis as Mrs. Claus was flush with cellulitis fever and bracing himself against the two children hugging him to keep standing. Worst of all, however, was the boy on Ludwig's lap who had him fully stumped. 

"Jahwol, child. You wish me to give you a _country _for Christmas?"__

__"No, I want to be a country! Be a country! Though I already am one, 'cause my name's a country." The boy bounced hard on Ludwig's lap for emphasis._ _

__Luckily, Ludwig's rock hard abs and thighs could take it. Still, he needed to delegate the boy's request so he could tend to Francis. "Pardon. What is your name again?"_ _

__"Sealand. You know, Sealand. Like the COUNTRY."_ _

__Ludwig was too distracted to catch the boy's British accent before, but now he discerned it clearly. "Ja, ja. I see. Well I shall have to refer you to my countryship designator, in his office at ze North Pole." He gently lifted Sealand from his lap, walked the boy over to his mother, then arranged for a phone call to take place between Sealand and the most clever, intellectual, and British person of Ludwig's acquaintance...Arthur._ _

__

__Nine Kilometers away, in his blacked out recovery rooms at Dr. Edelstein's, the corners of Arthur's mouth tugged upwards at the text request from Ludwig. Countryship designator? Brilliant. Arthur immediately agreed to the role, chuffed to be of more help to the hospital than simply handing out crackers like a right mingebag._ _

__The boy's mother called. Arthur answered it. "Countryship Designation Office. North pole, branch. Chief Elf Officer Arthur speaking. May I help you?"_ _

__A boy gasped on the other end, then spoke excitedly to his mother away from the phone as Arthur busied himself making office noises. Then suddenly the boy was back. "Are you Arthur CHRISTMAS? Like the movie?"_ _

__Arthur considered lying, but thought better of it. "I'm afraid not Lad. Just a Chief Elf Officer."_ _

__"Good. ‘Cause that Arthur bungles things. And I don't wish to be a bungled Country."_ _

__Arthur stifled a chuckle, then said seriously. "Certainly not. A bungled country would never do. But if you would be so kind as to tell me, what sort of country you DO wish to be."_ _

__The boy thought for a moment, then blurted out. "A country that's invited to world meetings, and what everyone knows about instead of laughing and saying, 'you're not a real country, idiot. Go home and watch anime.'"_ _

__Arthur stifled another chuckle then said in his most serious voice. "Ah, that sort. Righto. Well, Lad. Your present request has been received and will now be…” He made a stamping noise. “Granted!” Another gasp, then the kid babbled more excitedly than before to his mother before returning, and Arthur picked up where he left off. “You are now officially a country. I will draw up the papers directly. But as to the matter of attending world meetings, I'm afraid countries themselves must procure invites to meetings, by behaving in a most upright, diplomatic manner. You can do this much alone, can't you Lad?"_ _

__"Sure, I guess." The kid agreed, then asked. "When do I get the papers?"_ _

__"Your present will be delivered early tomorrow morning, at exactly local Santa time."_ _

__"That soon? But I won't be home when it arrives. I'll still be in hospital, buggar."_ _

__"Not to worry, Lad. Your exact delivery coordinates have already been processed and your present will soon be on its way. Now be sure to have the Happiest of Christmases, Lad...er, Country of Sealand."_ _

__"Country of Sealand? Hey that's me! I'm a country now, and I'll have my own Sealand dollars, and eat my own Sealand lollies…"_ _

__"Goodbye Sealand." Arthur disconnected before laughter completely overtook him. The lad means to have his own Sealand dollars and Sealand lollies? Why, the bloody cheek! When his phone rang again he hoped it was another child in need of a countryship, but then he recognized the number to be that of his brother in Ireland. “Connor? Happy Christmas and all, but shouldn’t you be busy at present?”_ _

__“Go way outta that Christmas talk Arthur, and wet the tea. I got something to tell ye that’s a fret.”_ _

__“Oh? Well, get on with it.” Arthur braced himself for bad news, only to have Connor completely gobsmack him with news that one of the prize crackers was unaccounted for. “Wot, here? No prize crackers are here, Con-Arse. The prize ones were hidden throughout London as per usual.”_ _

__Arthur listened to Conner’s continued meltdown, then sighed. “All hiding places are accounted for? Countless hours of security footage screened? Perhaps someone who knows their way around a video camera nicked it. At any rate, l could have someone recheck the crackers I brought here to Alaska. Ease your mind somewhat, as it were.”_ _

__“Oh you will, yea. You’re not too happy out in that Alaskan beyont to bother.” Connor groused._ _

__“Yes I bloody WILL, Con-Arse. Sarcastic sod. Miss you.”_ _

__“Miss you, Squidge-Bum. Call round for a céilí soon as your back.”_ _

__Arthur disconnected, then speed dialed Alfred’s number._ _


	5. Chapter 5

_America, Fuck Yeah… ___

__Alfred’s ring tone sounded over the kids’ party run amok under his and Gilbert’s direction. Ludwig had had to leave to treat Francis, so...the hallway was now a messy disaster! Though Alfred had managed to construct an obstacle course out of the chaos leading to a mountain of pillows piled against a wall, which Alfred sat on wearing a Christmas cracker crown. “Ha ha ha, kidlings! I’m the king of this mountain and I’ve got all the S’mores. So if you want some you gotta step over Gilbert the sleeping dragon, cross the blanket lake on the coloring book stepping stones, jump over the moat of smashed unicorn toys, then get your kiddy butts up here and pull me off. Ha ha ha, as if you could! Meanwhile I’ll be nomming S’mores. Nom nom nom nom nom!” He ate some theatrically, then pointed to clock. “So time’s a ticking. Better hurry before they’re all gone. Yes, Arthur?” He answered his phone at last. “The unicorns? Oh yeah, we had LOTS of fun with the unicorns.” He smiled evilly at the giant nutcracker he and Gilbert had used to destroy the unicorns._ _

__As Alfred dodged Arthur’s questions, Sealand sat primly at the one pillow campsite that had been left intact and drank cocoa like it was a cup of tea. Nutters. Utter nutters. He thought of his same age party guests and especially the adult hosts. Thanks to them he hadn’t even had the chance to pop a Christmas Cracker. He’d waited a long time to ask Santa Luddy for a country for Christmas. Then, by the time he got off the phone with Chief Elf Arthur, the blonde glasses wearing party host was throwing cracker unicorns at a giant nutcracker’s mouth like they were baseballs, while the white haired party host cracked them into bits._ _

__Well! At least I found some chocolate coins. Sealand thought, and wondered if perhaps he’d find a few more discarded items throughout the hall. Having grown up on a crumbling, abandoned World War II British fort, (his parents were adventurous types, hence his vacationing in Alaska with his Mum,) Sealand had learned early that nooks and crannies were virtual treasure troves for old coins, flasks, cigarette cases, can openers, shaving kits and even the occasional gas mask. I wonder, I wonder. He thought, peering about him with sharp eyes, then rising slowly to his feet to stare up at the pasta sculpture overhead when he thought he saw a flash of silver blue peeking out from between the pasta swirls._ _

__

__Sadly, in an intensive care unit room not far from where Sealand was on the hunt, Ludwig was also on the hunt, for clinical signs Francis’ now severe Cellulitis might prove fatal._ _

__“Est-ce the end? How I die?” Francis asked, abashed at how his fast spreading rash and swelling fever affected his looks._ _

__“I will do all I can, Francis.” Ludwig promised gravely as he examined Francis' lymph nodes._ _

__“Bon. Alors you will comb mes hair hourly pour to keep it from matting?_ _

__“Not that much, Dummkopf!”_ _

__Crushed, Francis nervously felt his hair, possibly for the last time, then begged. “If I die, Ludwig. Assure Matthew, s'il vous plaît, that I knew his name was Matthew all along. Mais his sad looks whenever I said his name wrong were too adorable pour résister. Et that c’est moi admired his hair squiggle, not une jeune fille, parce-que his sexy hair is so much like my own, only not as good. Et that the Cracker de Noël was my gift to him, that I found dans the London scavenger hunt, which he must open. He must…”_ _

__

__Back at the chaotic Christmas Eve S’mores without Santa party, Arthur’s voice railed over Alfred’s phone. “Am I to understand you _nutcracked _my family’s World famous, Christmas cracker, racing unicorns Alfred?”___ _

____“Dude! I didn’t nut-crack them. Gilbert nut-cracked them, after I pitched them into the nutcracker dude’s food hole!”_ _ _ _

____Idiot. Sealand thought of Alfred upon overhearing the exchange. However, he was grateful for the distraction as he slowly and methodically, as if fitting his feet into the brick wall grooves of his fort home, climbed the pillow mountain without Alfred or anyone else noticing, and fetched a Christmas cracker down from between the pasta art swirls._ _ _ _

____Unbeknownst to Sealand however, another Christmas Cracker was about to be discovered. Sleeping dragon Gilbert snored loudly as children jumped and walked over him, however his back twitched uncomfortably at the scratchy foil Christmas Cracker wedged underneath it. "Geh zum teufel, Arschloch." He groggily swore at it, groggily assumed the cracker was a condom foil, groggily stuffed it into his paramedic jacket, then groggily rolled over and resumed snoring._ _ _ _


	6. Chapter 6

Christmas Day. Five A.M. 

Arthur and Alfred were lying on a pillow campsite again after a frantic night of searching through the toy unicorn bits. Not one had special markings, however, and in just one hour the hospital’s children would finish Christmas carolling and invade the restored hall in search of presents and Santa Luddy. 

“Sorry, sorry Arthur!” Alfred was beside himself. “It’s just the kidlings weren’t having much fun with them before. That and... I wanted to piss you off for more rough sexy time!.” He groaned. 

At that, Arthur felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards for the first time since his brothers gave him a bollocking over the phone the night before. “Well! Your nut cracking my family’s World famous racing unicorns certainly didn’t help matters. However, I’m the one who’s really at fault. According to my brothers my thinking had gone Barmy weeks before I came here and hurled myself at a frozen shrubbery like a right plonker. The night Alistair died was the night the crackers were to be distributed throughout London, and I, again like a right plonker, insisted on hiding Alastair’s UK symbol unicorn myself. In an effort to stay close to him, I suppose, though I don’t remember. In fact, I don’t remember a wit of it!” Arthur shook his head abashedly to make Alfred cuddle him. 

“Arthur, Arthur. It’s okay. You were totally in shock then, Dude! And didn’t Luddy say something about emotional...emotional whatsit?” 

“Emotional traumatic brain injury, I believe is what he said. And Lord, did I have it. My thoughts and dreams were right fractious. So it would seem I was brain injured before, and as a result forgot to hide Alistair’s UK symbol unicorn cracker in London.” 

“Then it is here, in Alaska! The North Star led you and the cracker here. Because weren’t you s’posed to hide the cracker in Alistair’s favorite place?” 

Arthur followed Alfred’s gaze to the one bright blue star bulb amidst the dim Christmas lights above them, then conceded doubtfully. “I suppose.” 

“Yah! And Alistair’s favorite place was here! Well actually, his favorite place was my post, but it’s not like anyone in town could’ve found a Christmas Cracker out in the wilderness.”

“No, I suppose not.” Arthur began to feel more hopeful, and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards a second time. 

“So you did hide the cracker in the right place! Stars and Bars, Alaska. Alistair’s favorite place second only to my wilderness post. Good job, Arthur!” 

_Ta. Well done, Squidgy. Listen to the wee nyaff. _Alistair’s disembodied voice filled his ears, and Arthur looked around hopefully.__

__“Stair-Bear? Is that you? Calling Alfred a wee nyaff?”_ _

__“Wee...Huh?” Alfred expressed confusion, then suddenly dove under the pillows. “Agh! Agh! Alistair called me that ‘cause he was bigger than me, and I fucking HATE ghosts. Agh!’ He cried out in terror to make Arthur return his cuddling favor earlier._ _

__“Relax, Alfred. It’s just Alistair trying to help us, Lord love him.” He shakily stood up and tugged at Alfred until that man abandoned his hiding place. “Now then, we have a cracker to find. Where to start…where to start...” He looked around blindly, became totally stumped, then spoke to the air. “Stair-bear? Help us again, please? Be our ghost of Christmas Cracker present, as it were.”  
_ _

__

__

__The dim lights above them immediately flickered at the request, then went dark just as the halogen lights in the adjoining hall flickered on._ _

__“Agh! Agh! I fucking hate ghosts and ghost shit! You go!” Alfred wailed, and made to dive under the pillows again but Arthur, with a burst of duty induced adrenaline, smoothly stopped him and dragged him towards the hall.__


	7. Chapter 7

_Star of wonder, star of night,  
Star with royal beauty bright.  
Westward leading, still proceeding,  
Guide with thy perfect light. ___

__The hospital children were gathered in Francis’ dark room, serenading him and Matthew while holding battery operated candles. Miraculously Francis’s fever had come down during the night, and the danger was passed, still Matthew had felt compelled to visit him. “Ludwig told me what you said, about my hair being sexy and that you gifted me the Christmas Cracker?” He whispered, eyes shyly focused on the huge pile of get well drawings covering Francis’ blanketed legs._ _

__“Mais bien sûr, Mattieu! Everything I said was true, absolument!” Francis exclaimed, thrilled to be alive, but even more thrilled that a gaggle of little girls had abandoned their caroling to take turns combing, braiding, and putting clips in his shoulder length hair. “My hair could never mat avec de pretty butterflies decorating it, oui?”_ _

__Yeesh, he’s weird. Matthew thought, but still felt oddly attracted. Time to give him the asking out what for! He decided, and opened his mouth to do so, but then Alfred bounded into the room with a be-ribboned eco-friendly motorbike in tow._ _

__“Whoa! Cool!” The kids dropped everything to touch it and climb it._ _

__“Ha ha ha ha ha! Merry Christmas Matty, from me and Arthur.” Alfred boomed._ _

__“Arthur? Mon petite caterpillar is here?” Francis cooed, as Arthur grudgingly entered._ _

__“Hallo, Francis. Seems you survived. So, there’s that.” Arthur grumbled politely in his stiffest British voice. Alfred, however…_ _

__“You survived, Frere Jacques freak? You survived long enough for me to stra…mmmf!”_ _

__Arthur shoved one of the children’s Christmas cookies in his mouth, then turned hopeful eyes to Matthew. “So Matthew. It appears a Christmas cracker left in your room has gone unopened. Would you care to do the honors? Now! Er, um… That is, if it’s not too much trouble?”_ _

__At that, Francis dropped the drawings he’d been holding and exclaimed. “Matthieu! Pop cela at once! Did Ludwig not tell you I found it à Londres?”_ _

__“You found it in London?” Arthur gasped, happy he hadn’t ruined the London scavenger hunt after all. However, Alfred wasn’t impressed._ _

__“No way is it the right one, if it was in London instead of here and the freak found it.”_ _

__Francis only shrugged at Alfred’s continued insults, but Matthew leaped to his feet. “Hey, Cow-Fred. Stop calling my date freak or I’ll...I’ll…punch you where Arthur shoved that cookie!” He finished, saw the kids staring at him with wide curious eyes, saw Alfred and Arthur staring at him with gobsmacked eyes, then mumbled ‘sorry’ before sitting back down on a hospital chair and covering his face with his hands._ _

__An awkward silence followed, until Francis cooed. “Date? Oh, hon hon hon hon hon. Tu es too adorable, Matthieu! Mais bien sûr we will go on a date. But first, you must pop votre cracker so we can dine somewhere luxueux.”_ _

__“Luxueux? What’s that, a new TimBits flavor?” Matthew brightened, totally intent on taking Frances to his beloved Tim Hortens._ _

__“Mmmmf!” Was all Alfred could say when yet again Arthur was forced to shove a cookie in his mouth to keep him from threatening Frances._ _

__“Sure, sure. A date. Timbits. Excellent.” Arthur rambled as he followed up cookie shoving with cracker shoving, at Matthew. “Pop the cracker now please! Er, that is... if you would be so kind.”_ _

__Matthew expressed confusion at Arthur’s desperate prodding, but then saw the excitement in Francis’ eyes and held the cracker out to him. “You found it, Francis. You open it.”_ _

__“Non no, mon adorable. C’est mon gift to you.”_ _

__“Oh just pop the bloody cracker already, before I vomit all over it, you lovey dovey utter wankers!” Arthur cracked under the pressure._ _

__“Utter wankers! Utter wankers!” The kids echoed, when at last Matthew AND FRANCIS popped the cracker together to discover...a plain unicorn toy with paper crown and racetrack._ _

__“Ha ha ha! Told ya, told ya! Luxueux this, Freak!” Alfred threw the cracker foil at Francis victoriously before rushing from the room after Arthur in search of more unopened crackers._ _


	8. Chapter 8

"Alfred. Sorry for this Luv, you being afraid of ghosts and all. But I’m afraid I need a bit of a rest.” Shortly after leaving Francis' room Arthur began to sag. His balance faltered, his head throbbed, and Alfred couldn't piggyback Arthur to Ludwig's blacked out on-call room fast enough to prevent him from seizuring. 

Upon arrival, Santa Luddy, dressed as a nerdy Doctor Santa this time, was quick to medicate his patient as well as chastise gently. "You two, so troublesome. Not only with your Dummkopf toy searching, but this." He gestured at their shared rough sex bruises. "Italia!" He scolded Feli when that boyfriend and caregiver paused from tying his Santa bowtie long enough to shoot Alfred and Arthur a thumbs up signal. 

"What, sex is medicinali!" Feli sang, then made to add what initially looked to be wrapping paper to Ludwig's bowtie when Arthur sat up suddenly.

"Feli! Is that...a Christmas cracker foil by chance?" 

"Si! Si!" Feli sang, then gestured ecstatically at the pasta sculpture barn and corral he'd made for his unicorn toy. But the toy was devoid of special markings, sadly. 

"Buggar." Arthur sighed, and made to resume the hunt by leaving the on-call room's comfy couch but Ludwig stopped him. 

"Halt, Arzur. No more stress inducing searches for you. Alfred, prevent him." Ludwig hauled Alfred to Arthur's couch by the scruff of his neck, then left the room to start his Santa Luddy duties. 

"Youch! Talk about bruising." Alfred winced, then told Arthur. "But fuck no am I staying here when I've got a unicorn to find. Feli, you stay with Arthur while I search alone."

"Wot, alone?" Arthur protested. "But what of Alistair's ghost scaring you?"

Alfred crumpled a little at the reminder, then assumed a superhero pose. "No sweat, I got this. I mean…ha ha ha! What's the worst Alistair can do?" 

Arthur blinked at that. "What's the worst Alistair can do? Need I remind you of his bear-like size and strength, not to mention his twelve years of Military service?" 

"Ah ha ha ha...I’ll be fine. Fine! I’m gonna totally fucking do this. Right. Fucking. Now.” He kissed Arthur on the forehead goodbye, gave Feli a fist pump, then swung saloon door style out into the hall only to be met by…

_Awa, you fannybaws. _Alistair’s ghost voice whooshed in his ears, called him a vagina, then blasted him with a ghostly wind strong enough to blow him down three hospital hallways.__

__“Agh! Agh! Ghost shit is the scariest. I fucking hate ghost shit! Agh!” Alfred wailed with fear long after Alistair had stopped throwing him. Then upon discovering he’d landed on the floor just outside the children’s party hall, he ran inside and dove for the first pillow campsite he could find and hid under it, trembling._ _

__Luckily only one child was present to hear him swear. “Made a ghost angry, did you? Idiot.” Sealand was sitting at his out of the way pillow campsite from the night before, drinking an actual cup of tea instead of cocoa thanks to a tea loving nurse, and greatly enjoying the Countryship papers Arthur had left him under the tree._ _

__“Agh! Alistair Kirkland always hated me, now he’s totally going to kill me.” Alfred whimpered._ _

__“Rubbish. Ghosts don’t kill people. They help people, or ask for help. Though sometimes they do it roughly, like when numpters like you make them cross. But I get on well with my fort's Navy ghost soldiers, because I write all the letters they ask me to. Though I think it's weird most of them never learnt to write, and their sweethearts are mostly dead now, except one named Vera what wrote back and told me she was a hundred and three."_ _

__Alfred peaked out from behind a pillow, saw the kid had a Christmas cracker on his table, and whimpered. “Hey kidling. Could you please open your cracker so I can see if a special Unicorn’s in it?”_ _

__“Certainly not.” The kid replied frankly. “‘Cause the special unies are in London, everyone knows this. And you’ll just nutcrack my unie like you and your friend did the other ones.”_ _

__“No I won’t. I won’t. I swear. And I don’t want to touch it. Just see it. From way over here. Because I’m never gonna leave these pillows. Too scared. Agh!” Alfred promised._ _

__Sealand snickered at that, then marched over and kicked one of Alfred’s pillows. “Stop being such a whinger and get on with helping your ghost. ‘Cause if you don’t, I will. I’m quite clever at helping ghosts, actually.”_ _

__“Oh really.”_ _

__“Yes, rather!”_ _

“Okay then. Open your cracker first, then if it’s not special, ask ghost Alistair to help you find the special one.”

__“Fine, I will! But you have to stay there as promised.”_ _

__“Kidling, I’m not going anywhere ever again. Agh!” Alfred whimpered, then held his breath as Sealand marched back to his table, popped the Christmas cracker, and...a plain unicorn fell out.  
_ _

__

__

__“Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!” Arthur groaned. “I’ll never find the unicorn now I’m too scared.”_ _

__Sealand mocked. “Of course YOU won’t, because I already said I would. If that’s alright with you, ghost Alistair?” He addressed the air, and the Christmas lights overhead seemed to flicker gently in response. Then suddenly the outside door whooshed open. “Oh, it’s out there is it?” Sealand drew his hospital robe about him tighter, and prepared to march into freezing temperatures despite still recovering from Meningitis, but Alfred popped up from the pillows at the last minute to stop him._ _

__“No kid, you’ll get sick again. I’ll go.” Alfred was quick to shut the door and tug Sealand back to where he’d been sitting. However, Alfred was slow to trudge back to the door and whatever further torture Alistair had in store. “Alright, Alistair.” He conceded with a sigh. “Just let me exit through a crack in the door so we don’t make the kid sick, then do your worst.” He exited without incident, closed the door behind him, then WHOOOOOOSH! Got his ass blown across the parking lot and across the street before landing in a snowdrift next to...of all places...Gilbert’s ambulance garage._ _


	9. Chapter 9

Once Alfred recovered his breath and felt brave enough to rise from the snowdrift, the morning sky was still dark as it was one of the shortest Alaskan days of the year. Alfred saw the North Star clearly, seemingly just overhead, then suddenly heard a radio come to life in Gilbert’s garage. Gilbert wouldn’t have turned it on, Alfred knew, because he slept mornings after driving his ambulance all night. Then as if to confirm it was Alistair, a side door Gilbert always kept locked blew open and Albert immediately ran for it, begging. “Don’t throw me there, Alistair. No more throwing me, please!” 

More Scottish insults whooshed inside his ears, combined with mocking laughter, but he managed to make it inside only to bump into Gilbert wielding a baseball bat. “Zum Teufel, Alfred! Did someone break in?” Gilbert shouted over a childrens’ chorus singing _Oh Holy Night _over the radio.__

__“A ghost did!” Alfred shouted back._ _

__“Huh? Ein ghost? Why?”_ _

__“It wants to see if you have a special Christmas Cracker unicorn toy? Do you?”_ _

__“Unicorn? Nein. But Gilbird found ein ugly bird friend. Come und see.”_ _

__As Gilbert led Alfred up a narrow flight of stairs to his above garage flat, the sound of children singing followed them._ _

_____A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices _ _  
__For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn _ _  
__Fall on your knees____ _ ________

________Alfred fell on his knees when he saw a unicorn toy with special unicorn symbols painted on its sides affixed to Gilbert’s Christmas tree in place of a star._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________O hear the angels voices_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

__________Alfred thought he heard angels voices, not only because of the children singing, but from Gilbird’s excited chirping as he chirped at and pecked at the toy._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________O night divine_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

____________Alfred’s phone rang. It was Arthur, crying about being reduced to a fuck useless lazy sod. “Oh yeah? Well lazy sod this, Arthur!” He held up the phone to snap a picture of the unicorn as a Christmas star. “You did it! You did it! You hid Alistair’s unicorn exactly where he would have wanted and now it’s been found, by Gilbird.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Wot? Gilbert found it! It could be worth millions!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Not Gilbert. Gil-BIRD.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Gil-BIRD? Gore, blimey. Whatever will a bird do with millions?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Gilbert shrugged, then said. “Was else? Donate to all ze town’s charities in his name.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Oh?” Arthur exclaimed, then started to cry again, from happiness as he listened to the song being sung in the background. “That is divine, just like this song.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Yeah! Yeah! Divine!” Alfred cheered, then all three listened as the childrens’ choir sang the last chorus._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________O night divine, O night _  
_O night divine _ ______ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __


End file.
